


responsibility is a weighty, heavy thing

by royalwisteria



Series: in all the universes, it will be you [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1888863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalwisteria/pseuds/royalwisteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is the new Chief Medical Officer on starship <i>Ark</i> and is kind of, maybe, not happy to be there. *reposted</p>
            </blockquote>





	responsibility is a weighty, heavy thing

Chief Medical Officer is never a title Clarke wanted but somehow she has wrangled herself the position on the _USS_ _Ark_. Or, as she’s been informed in the mess hall by a couple red shirts who introduced themselves as Monty and Japser, ‘the ole Arky.’ She’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to call it that, especially to other officers, but it certainly seems to beat calling it starship _Ark_. It gives some humor to the situation, and hanging out in the mess hall helps her avoid some of the responsibilities she’s trying to pretend aren’t in her jurisdiction or lap.

It’s going well, making the rounds and meeting all the people, finding out about their conditions mental as well as physical, until she’s stopped by a tall fellow in a yellow shirt.

“Yes?” She asks, tilting her head, wondering who this is. He smirks at her, crossing his arms over his— surprisingly slender chest for such broad shoulders. A brief frown crosses her face.

“Chief Medical Officer, right?”

“Uh, yes, and you are?”

“Bellamy Blake.”

“Well, how can I help you?” She asks and strikes her own pose to level the field, sticking her hip out and balancing her clipboard on it. If he wants to try and play his masculinity, she can play too.

“I believe that, as Chief Medical Officer, you’re required to be in med bay, no?”

She frowns for real now, resettling the clipboard digging into her hip into a more comfortable position. “How is that your business?”

His smile is all teeth, a little feral and _angry_. “Because I’m your _Captain_.”

Oh, _shit_ , she thinks, realizing she should have paid a lot more attention to the crew register. “Um, yes, uh, nice to meet you, Captain.”

He looks unimpressed; the feeling is mutual, so very mutual. Clarke is feeling very unimpressed with herself right now, as well as quite disappointed. “Nice to meet you too, Griffin. Now that we’ve gotten the niceties out of the way, how about you tell me what you don’t like about your job.”

 _Everything_ , she wants to say. _I never wanted this job, this responsibility placed so squarely on my shoulders— I don’t have the experience for this, I’m too young._

“Nothing, Captain,” she replies quietly instead.

One hand goes to his forehead and another drops to his hip. Her own stance has changed without realizing it, the clipboard now hugged to her chest. As Captain, he’s probably had training on body language from all different species and he’s most definitely reading something in this withdrawn, submissive pose.

“I’m not angry,” he says through gritted teeth and, despite how berated she feels, she still lets out a little snort. A smile plays at his lips, though he soon presses them together and continues on. “I’m just upset that one of my top officers is known to ditch her post. I haven’t seen you on the bridge at all.”

“I’m— to be honest, Captain, I don’t think I’m right for the job. I don’t have the qualifications.”

He rolls his eyes and that causes her to stand sharper, to stop hugging her clipboard like a lifeline and more like a weapon of bureaucracy. “Your scores are incredible, Griffin, don’t give me that bull. Now, are you going to go to med bay where you’re supposed to be, or do I have to march you there?”

“I also don't have the medical experience,” she snaps.

“Then you didn’t get the spot because of it,” Bellamy growls back. “Now, are you going, or am I going to have to carry you?”

“Wow, that sure escalated real quick— first march, now carry? What’s next, you’re going to render me unconscious and drag me there?”

“If I have to,” he hisses, taking a step closer and looms over her. Clarke refuses to be intimidated by his height.

“No need,” she snarls. “I can make my own way back.”

“Good,” he growls. “And don’t forget, I need you on the bridge now and then.”

“Looking forward to it,” she barks over her shoulder. “It’ll be my absolute pleasure.”


End file.
